


for the joy of baking

by foodoflovee



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Baking, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, if david has a kitchen he bakes i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foodoflovee/pseuds/foodoflovee
Summary: five times david bakes for patrick and one time they bake together.The first time is when Alexis leaves. David misses her and it feels so sharp. He remembers the first time she left, when they were kids and she had made friends while he hadn’t figured it out yet. Adelina noticed him fidgeting, looking out the window, waiting for Alexis to come back. She’d taken David into the kitchen, sat him down and said, “Maybe some bread. A house never feels as lonely when you  smell fresh bread.”
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 21
Kudos: 122





	for the joy of baking

_1_

The first time is when Alexis leaves. David misses her and it feels so sharp and new. He remembers the first time she left, when they were kids and she had made friends while he hadn’t figured it out yet. Adelina noticed him fidgeting, looking out the window, waiting for Alexis to come back. She’d taken David into the kitchen, sat him down and said, “Maybe some bread. A house never feels as lonely when you smell fresh bread.”

David sat there, fixated, watching Adelina's arms as she kneaded the dough, then her fingers carefully braiding the bread. He remembers the loneliness being replaced with contentment and belonging. He knew, for him, there was no place better in that moment then in the kitchen with Adelina’s caring smile and scents of yeast and honey.

Patrick has left for the day, letting David stay at home after saying goodbye to Alexis. He regrets not having the distraction now. But he remembers the smell of challah as vividly as he misses Alexis, and he picks up his keys and drives to the grocery. Once he gets there, he googles for a recipe, finds a seemingly simple video with the ingredients in the notes. _Flour, eggs, yeast. Sugar, honey, butter, milk._

When David gets home, he ignores the video for the recipe in the notes. There are three stages: a starter, kneading and finally braiding. The worries about Alexis traveling, his ignorance of embassies in the Galapagos, drifts away as he combines the yeast, milk and flour. The tension in his back leaves as he kneads the dough. _Knead the dough until you break three sweats,_ the directions read. As he works the dough, he reminds himself that he’s proud of Alexis, her relationship with Ted, how much they’ve become not only siblings, but friends too. The dough has to sit for a couple of hours and while it grows David cleans up the mess he’s made and works on wedding plans. He thinks about Alexis mocking his choices and feels another weight lift from his shoulders. Finally, he braids the dough, careful that it’s not too tight or too loose. He remembers braiding Alexis’ hair when they were little and bored and he tears up.

He’s pulling the bread out of the oven just as Patrick gets home. The top has cracked so it doesn’t look as perfect as the still on the video, but it smells the same as when Adelina reminded him he’s not alone even if Alexis is elsewhere. “David, what did you do? It smells amazing in here.” Patrick looks tired and David is thankful that maybe his anxiety, for once, can bring a little joy into Patrick’s day.

“I made bread. Adelina used to make it for me when I was a kid and missed Alexis.” He cuts off a piece, slathers butter on it, and offers it to Patrick. Patrick’s eyes close as he chews, swallows. “It’s delicious, David. Thank you.” He looks closely at David and notices the redness in his eyes. “I know you’re going to miss her, I will too. But there will be calls and emails. And I promise you, you never have to spend a night alone if you don’t want to. Your home is here too.”

David leans in and kisses Patrick on the cheek. He steals the rest of Patrick’s bread and smiles.

_2_

Patrick left with promises that it was only for a couple of hours, just to clear his head. It was a stupid fight. David wanted a live band for the wedding and had found the perfect jazz group. Maybe the band was a little pricey, but it was his, no _their_ , wedding and didn’t they deserve to be indulgent? But Patrick, ever practical, wanted to stick to the budget and live music was not in the budget. So they fought, and he left and now David was left twisting his rings, worrying. 

David feels the pit in his stomach growing. He doesn’t know what to do with hands but he knows he won’t make it through a couple of hours if the only thing he lets himself do is worry. Suddenly, he remembers how calming it was when he made challah after Alexis left. David thinks about the way Patrick always hums when he eats chocolate cupcakes, and is determined to make sure he can hear that joyful sound as soon as Patrick gets back.

He pulls up the first recipe with the word “easy” in the description, and David’s lucky that they already have all the ingredients ( _cocoa powder, flour, oil_ ) in the apartment. He doesn’t think he’s calm enough yet to drive safely. 

He chose the recipe because the name proclaims _One bowl cupcakes!!_ which actually seems doable, even with the anxiety that continues to build in his stomach. As David combines the oil and sugar, adds in the eggs, then the cocoa powder and flour he starts to see the wedding band from Patrick’s point of view. He remembers their dance at Patrick’s surprise birthday party, how it wasn’t any less lovely because _Brighter Than Sunshine_ was played through an iPhone speaker. Any dance with Patrick will be special, whether it’s a live band or just a Spotify playlist. 

David starts a mental playlist as he creams the butter for the buttercream. He lets the butter fluff on its own for a few minutes, as the recipe says, and thinks _The Best, Hero, Your Song_. He adds in the powdered sugar and cocoa powder, breathes out and lets go of the live band. He sticks his finger in the finished buttercream and steals a tastes. He hums. 

He doesn’t have any frosting tips or bags so he just spoons big glugs on frosting onto each cupcake. It doesn’t look beautiful, but it looks homemade and cozy. David hopes they look less messy and more made-out-of-love. He hears the door open and gets a cupcake ready.

_3_

It’s his birthday tomorrow, so it’ll also be their anniversary. David’s been baking more and more since the chocolate cupcakes. When Patrick got back and saw the cupcakes, he took one bite, ignored the mess, and kissed David with frosting still on his lips. They spent the rest of the night eating, laughing and building their playlist. It’s now one of David’s favorite memories. 

Patrick promised reservations at the new pizza place in Elmdale to celebrate, but David wants to make sure that there is something sweet at home waiting for them. He’s so joyful, so thankful for the love that he has found that he can’t imagine not baking something for Patrick. He feels more confident with baking now, and pulls up a slightly more complicated recipe for a champagne, funfetti cake. David saves the recipe and knows he’ll have time to make it while Patrick is at baseball practice tonight. 

The next night, they walk into their apartment, David’s hands around Patrick’s bicep, laughing about Roland’s latest questions about the new bath products at their store. It had already been a joyful evening, but the small smile Patrick has on his face when David pulls the cake from the fridge makes the night perfect. 

“I love it when you bake for me, David.” Patrick takes a knife and cuts them two large pieces. He goes on, “It reminds me how much you care about me. I love that you’d found such a delicious way of showing me you love me.”

David licks his fork and sets it down on his plate. He smiles, small and to the side, like he does when he can’t quite believe that this is his life - warm, full of love and laughter, safe. “I like baking for you. I like the look you get when you can’t believe what I made tastes so good.” He chuckles, puts his hands on Patrick’s hips and leads him to the bedroom. The cake will last until tomorrow.

_4_

They’re both exhausted when they get home. Patrick goes straight to the couch, takes off his shoes and lays down. David didn’t expect house-hunting to be this difficult. They both knew what they wanted. A two-story home, big bathrooms, bigger closets, enough guest-rooms for when family would stay over. An open kitchen. Despite the planning, and the mood-board, they hadn’t been prepared for the walking, the long-winded tours from Ray, and the disappointment when none of the houses immediately felt _right_.

Patrick had been looking forward to today for weeks. They were finally going house-hunting with the intention of living together. He’d talked about it to David almost every evening, how sorry he was about the misunderstanding when he had been looking for his current apartment, how they’d finally have separate spaces for his baseball and hockey gear and David’s sweaters, how they could finally start hosting parties in a space that didn’t feel too cramped. But the day ended with them both bone-tired and no closer to a home.

David leans back on the kitchen counter and watches Patrick as he tries to get comfortable on the couch and settle down. He listens to Patrick sigh, and aches to smooth out the worry lines on his fiancé’s face, reminding himself that Patrick often needs a few minutes of silence after a hard day. After a couple of minutes, David turns towards the pantry. He had just bought chocolate chips with plans on trying a new recipe, _browned-butter chocolate chip cookies_. David thinks about all the movies he loved, how home was always set to the back-drop of chocolate chip cookies. He wants to show to Patrick that he can make a home anywhere as long as they are together. 

Glancing over to the couch, he notices that Patrick’s brow has relaxed, and he was now quietly napping. David pulls out the rest of the ingredients, _dark brown sugar, vanilla, flaked salt._ He sets the pan on the stove and starts browning the butter, humming to himself the joyful pop song that had been playing on the radio during the drive back. As the butter cools, he thinks about the fourth house they saw. It was a little small, but the back wall of the living room was lined with windows. There had been plenty of closets, even if there hadn’t been a full bath attached to what would be the master bedroom. 

He adds the now cool butter to the brown sugar and eggs. He thinks about the big backyard, about the barbecues they could host, the way Patrick’s arms would look with rolled up sleeves as he stood by the grill. He sticks the cookies in the oven and reminds himself that the house didn’t have to start off perfect. Together they would make it perfect. 

A few short minutes later David takes out the cookies and starts the kettle for tea. He walks over to the couch and gently runs his fingers over Patrick’s chest. Slowly, Patrick's eyes open, and focus in on David. “What smells so good?”

David helps Patrick sit up on the couch and places a plate of cookies on his lap. “I made you cookies.” He notices Patricks soft smile and takes it as permission to keep talking. “I know today was long. I’m tired too. But maybe we shouldn’t dismiss everywhere we saw today? We can definitely keep looking, you know I love being picky, but that fourth house, the one with the windows? I think together… Together, we could make it great.”

Instead of grabbing a cookie, Patrick leans forward, put his hand on the back of David’s neck, pulling him close enough for a kiss. “Thank you.” Patrick kisses him, a little lazily still waking up from his nap. A few minutes later, he settles back against the couch, and takes a cookie. Patrick nibbles on the it, hums, and relaxes. “You’re my home, David. I just want you to have the closet space you deserve. I want it to be perfect for you.” 

“It will be. With you, it will.”

_5_

David misses Patrick. He remembers how much he missed Alexis while she was in the Galapagos and baking challah. He knows this should be different, two days versus six months, but he can’t stop himself from fiercely missing Patrick.

Patrick will be back tomorrow morning. David goes through the steadily growing recipe rolodex in his mind and decides on scones. 

David’s thankful that he has to take a trip to the grocery store to buy some yogurt. It takes time and he needs time to pass quicker until Patrick is back. When David gets home, he cleans off the counter and empties out the ingredient directly onto the surface. _Flour, cold butter, yogurt, fresh strawberries_. He presses the butter into the flour, feels it crumble, and lets his mind wander through what’s left of wedding planning. 

They’re going to move into their new home in a few weeks, which will be only a week after the wedding. He smiles, thinking about everything he can bake for Patrick in their new, bigger kitchen. As the dough comes together, he resolves on baking something Patrick at least once a week. He promises himself that he will always bake for Patrick when he’s away, so that their home smells warm, sweet and joyful for when he comes home. 

Later, after David pulls the scones from the oven and sets them on a plate to cool, he calls Patrick. He asks about his day, listens to Patrick’s low voice and begins to doze to the smell of strawberries. The last thing he hears is, “I love you, David. See you tomorrow. I can’t wait to eat whatever you baked me.”

_+1_

There’s a first time for everything and for once, David proposed the money-saving idea of making their own cakes and pies for the wedding. If they worked together, Patrick and David would have just enough time to night before to bake plenty of strawberry pies, chocolate cupcakes, a one three-tiered champagne cake. 

Now, however, as they stand together at the counter, a pile of butter in front of them, David regrets his decision. “It’s so much work. Why did I suggest this? We could be spending our last night as not-husbands doing something fun! Something irresponsible, something sexy!” Patrick chuckles and grabs the flour. “David, if we don’t do this, there won’t be anything at the wedding. We need cake. We at least need our wedding cake.”

“Fine.” David takes the butter, sugar, and champagne and turns toward their stand mixer. “But I’m starting with the frosting.” He adds in all the ingredients, and feels the weight of Patrick’s eyes. After a few moments, he hears Patrick humming _The Best_. He finishes the frosting as Patrick ends the song. David turns, finger covered in frosting, offering Patrick a taste. He licks it off, smiles and goes in for a kiss. David feels victorious, like maybe he’ll get away with leaving the baking and taking off his fiancé’s clothes instead. He starts to work his fingers down the buttons on Patrick’s shirt, kissing along the underside of his jaw. He gets the shirt unbuttoned, and explores the newly exposed warm skin, losing himself in the moment. 

David forgets that he’s in the kitchen until he feels the sharp smack of a rubber spatula on his ass. He jumps, blinks, and remembers where he is. “Cake, David.” Patrick’s looking up at him, joyful, a little frosting left on his cheek. David leans down, one more time, licks of the icing and leaves a gentle kiss. Five years ago, he didn’t know he was capable of baking, of accepting and reciprocating such a gentle love. 

They stare at each other for a while longer. David finally sighs, turns around, and takes a clear bowl and the sugar. “Are you going to help or are you just going to distract me for the rest of the night?” 

“Oh, I’m going to help.” Patrick says, handing David the spatula so that he can push the butter off the sides of the bowl, into the sugar. “I promise I’ll never leave your side. I’ll be your forever sous-chef.”

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written in any fandom for years, but this show, these boys!! they make me feel so warm, and i hope i did them justice. bon appetit :)


End file.
